


Sink Me

by endquestionmark



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endquestionmark/pseuds/endquestionmark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the prompt: "<a href="http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/9194.html?thread=21032170#t21032170">Sherlock Holmes was terrified of dying alone. So it was a miraculous moment when, having resigned himself to his fate, John Watson should open the door and walk out onto the balcony. He wouldn't have to die alone after all.</a>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sink Me

_We both know how this has to end_ , Holmes thinks, in the infinite stillness of the moment. He watches Moriarty think it, watches the minuscule spark of triumph in his eyes, the glow of bloodlust, the satisfaction of a win, and thinks to himself _my whole career has been leading up to this_ , reminds himself, _this is an amenable outcome_.

 

In Moriarty's eyes, Holmes sees himself, sees his own face and his prone form, flat against the granite of the edge of the balcony, feels the phantom ache in his own arms of a final push, watches the dark form fall, fall into the darkness and the spray. The shadow lasts for a moment, then vanishes, a solitary speck against the gray fog.

 

_It wasn't meant to end like this_ , Holmes thinks against his will. In the space between one breath and another, the image changes, and Holmes reaches up and folds his arms around Moriarty's ribs, kicks out and lives for an infinite moment of nausea, of disorientation and spinning, before gravity pulls them, down, together. _It wasn't meant to be him_. He feels the nausea, flat-footed as he is on solid stone, the same whirl, the same sickness, and wishes - so hard - that someone would stop him, had stopped him. _I don't want to fall_.

 

Time snaps back into motion. Moriarty holds the lighter to Holmes' pipe, a flare of red, and Holmes knows that he's out of time, that he won't be able to leave a message or a token or even a scuff of his shoe on the pillar as a sign that he was once here. He'll be gone, erased, eradicated.

 

Holmes takes a deep breath, the icy air burning his throat, his lungs, and forces it out again, red sparks flying into Moriarty's face, and Moriarty reels back, eyes screwed shut. Holmes wishes he had the luxury of that, and wraps his arms about Moriarty, and -

 

\- the door opens.

 

_Watson_ , Holmes thinks, _John_ , and guilt washes over him instantly, those blue eyes wide, and Holmes knows that he will remember them forever. _You didn't leave me_ , Holmes thinks, and kicks out, rides out the whirl of the world with those blue eyes, with Watson's face vivid and real in his mind, with the knowledge that he won't die alone after all.

 

Holmes closes his eyes and consigns himself to the fall.


End file.
